When Wizards Fly
by Bromthymals
Summary: Love is harsh especially when you suffer from temporary amnesia.


Author's Note: Do enjoy and remember, reviews served nice and fresh on a silver platter are the salt, food, beverage, sugar, and substance of life.

"When wizards fly, and dance upon a speckled sky…"

Someone was singing to him while strumming on a guitar. Professor Filius Flitwick sighed and stretched lazily as he focused his bleary eyes on the singer who looked remarkably like Draco Malfoy. Oddly enough the Malfoy look alike was clad in nothing but a white tunic, which showed his legs to an excellent advantage, with a grapevine wrapped strategically around his pale body. In fact as Flitwick's vision adjusted to the dim candle light in the room he realized the singer was definitely his student Draco Malfoy. 

Flitwick gulped. He didn't like this. 

"Awake, Professor?" Malfoy stopped plucking at his guitar to smile down on him.

This was most definitely disconcerting. The Malfoy he knew never smiled like this. Wide, open, brilliant, and oddly relieved. It made him look innocent, young, and almost…pitiful, as if some large burden had dropped away from his shoulders. 

Flitwick attributed these thoughts to the unnatural haziness clouding his mind at the moment. 

"Mmm." He decided it was safer to stick to monosyllables until he figured out what was going on.

"Last night was…fantastic," Malfoy's lips curved into another transforming smile, and his silvery hair flopped softly over his forehead, covering his eyes. 

"Last night?" Flitwick croaked. Last night? Oh Mother of Mercies, Warlocks up above in Heaven, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named curse you to hell, what had happened? Last night? What? 

"When you showed me what you could do with your wand…." Was that a metaphor? Was that….how? why? When? Why couldn't he remember what had happened last night?

"Malfoy…do be so kind as to tell me what exactly you mean….?" Malfoy stared quizzically. 

"You mean you don't remember?" Malfoy's guitar clattered to the ground

"No." Gods. Please. Please tell him this was a dream. 

"But we've been planning this for so long- remember how difficult it was to secure the tunic and this grape vine? And how we had the worst time winding it around me?" Flitwick choked. Okay. Grape vines? Who talked about grape vines in reality? This was definitely a dream.

"Uh. No?" 

"The Grape Vine and Guitar Ritual proceeded by the Veela Charm?" Oh. Memory was starting to flow back to Flitwick.

"Your Veela ancestry right? And the advanced charm that transfers one's veela blood to another person, given the correct circumstances?"

"Right, and thank you, thank you so much Professor. Life's been absolute hell until you told me about the charm. Random people trying to jump my bones in between classes…Professor Snape staring at me in this smarmy sort of way…" Malfoy? Thankful? Snape? Smarmy? Well. He was dreaming. Everything was acceptable. 

"Ah. Right. So we performed it didn't we. So who was the ill fated recipient of your veela prowess?" This dream was turning out much better than he'd expected. He didn't think he could have dealt with the implication that he'd had a random dream about one of his students in the morning.

"You." 

Bloody hell. Thank _GOD_ this was just a dream. How'd his dream self ever agree to that?

Malfoy looked a bit nervous, "Um. Anyway. Thanks for everything. Good luck being a veela. I'll see to it that you get a huge reward." He left the chamber banging the door behind him.

Flitwick gazed at the ceiling and waited for reality to take his dream self away. The candles Flitwick's room guttered and flickered out, his eyes shut, and by the time the sun rose and its red rays illuminated his room, Flitwick was fast asleep.

He awoke, slowly, refreshed and shuddered over the dream he'd had the night before. Veela. He let himself imagine his life as a veela for a split second- being mobbed by students and staff alike, morphing into a bird of prey whenever rage danced across his mind.

He laughed, purely happy to be alive, and nothing more than a wizard on a bright September morning.

It was while he was laughing that he noticed the candle stubs around his bed, and a guitar wrapped in grapevine lying in the corner of the room.


End file.
